


feelings (that's what I'm pouring)

by Perilous_Grey



Series: 5/20 Blaze It (RoyEd Month 2020) [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: 520 Day | Edward Elric/Roy Mustang Day, Domestic Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Post-Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, RoyEd Month 2020, cooking mishaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24303814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perilous_Grey/pseuds/Perilous_Grey
Summary: Roy wasn’t keen to experience what other mischief Ed could get up to in the kitchen unsupervised and thus, two years later, here he was, awake before noon on a Sunday, idly contemplating a skillet of scrambled eggs.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Series: 5/20 Blaze It (RoyEd Month 2020) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737898
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	feelings (that's what I'm pouring)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 5/20 everyone! Written for RoyEd Month Day 20: "Promise"
> 
> Title taken from Tyler, the Creator's "I THINK".

Roy knows better than to cook over a hot stove when there’s oil in the pan but to be fair, coherence before the first cup of coffee entirely soaks into his bloodstream is hard to come by. Besides, he didn’t use _that_ much olive oil. Just enough to give the non-stick an even coating with a quick swipe of a paper towel, no excess, no dry spots, and certainly not the haphazard pour Edward was all too fond of.

Roy had only made that mistake once: early on when they were still figuring out if morning afters were too intimate, too close, too soon for whatever it was they had stumbled head-first into; Ed had miraculously woken before Roy and taken it upon himself to make them breakfast. 

Or, more accurately, Ed’s ravenous stomach had forced him out of bed in search of food because Roy was being, “a lazy bastard,” for sleeping in on a Sunday. 

Roy had been halfway down the stairs with his gloves on before the acrid scent of something burning had consciously registered, let alone that he was upright and moving, or that his house was feeling a bit drafty for mid May. None of that mattered when Edward was missing and part of his house may or may not be on fire.

Flying around the banister, he skidded to a halt in the kitchen doorway, hand poised to snap—

To find Edward cursing a blue streak about to dump something over a flaming pan.

“Freeze, Fullmetal!” Roy said, sleep rasping his throat. “Do _not_ toss that water.”

Ed whipped around with a snarl on his lips, “I’m not an idiot, thanks,” proceeding to shake an orange box vigorously over the rising flames, a fine white powder dousing the pan. “See? Just because I don’t cook that often doesn’t mean I don’t know what the hell to do if something goes wrong.”

Roy did not relax. “This is not how I expected to start my day.”

“And you think this was at the top of my list either?” Fire expunged, Ed twisted the burner off and turned to face Roy properly, eyebrow raised. “What are you doin’ up anyway? Last I checked you were snoring up a storm. Not that I mind the view.”

“I do not snore,” Roy protested automatically, “If anyone in this house snores, it’s you, and how was I supposed to sleep through a grease fire raging in my kitchen?” He glared, easily mistaken for a squint in the blinding morning light streaming in through the open kitchen window. “Why are you leering?”

“M’ not leering,” Ed said, leering.

“You definitely are.”

“Well, what do you expect standin’ in the kitchen buck ass naked?”

Roy looked down. He was, in fact, not wearing a stitch of the clothing he vaguely remembered going to bed in. There was a memory of being cozy under the covers when Ed had emerged from the master bathroom still damp from his shower, towel riding low on his hips, blond mane gleaming in the harsh bathroom light as a stray water droplet crawled tantalizingly along his collar bone, just begging to be licked... 

“Ah,” Roy stated.

Ed smirked, throwing the used spatula into the sink without looking. “I’m flattered your instincts value my life more than your modesty.”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “Modesty has nothing to do with it.” He finally adjusted his battle ready stance to lean back artfully against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Ed’s eyes were electric on his skin, a near tangible current as they dragged over every inch of Roy’s frame. “I can see that.” His smirk inched into a grin at Roy’s shameless preening.

“Oh, Edward,” Roy purred, “why not indulge that scientific curiosity of yours in a more...thorough examination? You’re halfway across the kitchen, after all.”

Ed settled against the kitchen counter, rolling his eyes. “Are you calling _me_ old? I’m not the one who needs dorky reading glasses in this household.”

“I’ll remember that next time you want to play naughty librarian seduces the unwitting patron.” Roy quipped as Ed blushed a fetching shade of pink, returning the blatant appraisal with a heavy lidded gaze of his own, admiring how Ed’s tank top clung to his well muscled torso, showing off powerful arms that were capable of crushing foes with callous roughened hands; worn palms that touched Roy so gently, so carefully, it was impossible to mistake the love and kindness that blazed beneath Ed’s gruff exterior. 

Unfortunately, the strength of his stare must have been a little _too_ tangible, because at that moment the disastrous breakfast attempt miraculously reignited.

Ed frowned as Roy’s come-hither smolder rapidly transformed into horrified disbelief.

“How could you forget to turn the heat off?” Roy exclaimed.

“Fuck you, I did! You _watched_ me turn the stove off! If anything it’s your fault for owning such crappy burners.” Ed yelled, darting back to the stove and upending the little orange box over the flames once more. 

They flared higher in retaliation.

“Grab a lid.”

“What?”

“A _lid_!”

Ed stared blankly, caught off guard by the request.

“For the _pan_ , baking soda isn’t enough—” Roy raced across the kitchen, shoving Ed out of the way and dropping to his loudly protesting knees, ripping open the lower cabinet next to the stove to grab an oversized lid and slam it down over the roaring flames. 

They sputtered and died a quick death.

“Oh, _that_ lid,” Ed muttered. He stared at the charred pan with narrowed eyes for a moment then turned to Roy accusingly, “Wait, couldn’t you have put that out with your gloves?”

Roy inhaled for a count of three, coughed, took a shallower lungful of smoky air, and exhaled slowly. “How else are you going to learn to put out your own fires—literally or otherwise— since we are four years past it being my state sanctioned responsibility to do so? Besides, doesn’t your teacher have a saying—”

“Yeah, yeah, if you can do it by hand, which I certainly _can_ , there’s no need to take the easy way out,” Ed sighed while waving a hand, irreverent tone at odds with the determined glint in his eye. He kindly didn’t point out that while it had been years since Roy was held accountable for the collateral left in the wake of his missions, that didn’t mean Roy wouldn’t help him at the drop of a hat now that they were on equal ground. Far from it. If anything, he was even _more_ willing. “So, what else is most likely to burst into flames when exposed to trace amounts of heat?”

Needless to say, Roy wasn’t keen to experience what other mischief Ed could get up to in the kitchen unsupervised and thus, two years later, here he was, awake before noon on a Sunday, idly contemplating a skillet of scrambled eggs.

A pair of arms snaking around his waist broke Roy from his silent reminiscing.

“Coffee,” Ed mumbled into Roy’s bare shoulders.

Roy suppressed a smile. “Good morning to you too, my day is going well, thank you for asking.”

Ed grunted.

“Yes, there’s coffee,” Roy rolled his eyes fondly, Ed too busy burrowing into his shoulder blades to offer a scathing retort, “I even rescued your favorite mug from the terrible clutches of the sink.” It had been a gag-gift-turned-treasured-artifact from Al two Christmases ago, a bright red cup that read ‘Meowy-Christmas’ in white lettering, complete with a green handle curled like a cat's tail.

Ed refused to part with it no matter what time of the year despite Roy’s teasing.

Presently, the oversized blond koala clinging to Roy’s back grumbled unintelligibly.

Roy couldn’t fight the swell of affection if he tried—which he didn’t, it would be physically impossible to stifle the sheer unmitigated _feeling_ Ed evoked on a daily basis— and instead directed his smile to the sizzling pan.

“The eggs are almost done,” Roy said.

Ed unlatched one arm to swipe the lovingly handcrafted, faintly misshapen mug a nine-year-old Elysia had presented to Roy one evening after stopping by for dinner with the Hughes family, a dark blue base with a mustard yellow handle to match his uniform. At the bottom was a hand painted sun to remind him to smile whenever he finished his drink of choice.

Ed drained the rest of Roy’s too bitter coffee, blinked at the widely smiling sun, then set the mug back down and resumed fusing with his lover’s back. “G’mornin’, bastard.”

He was lucky Roy had opted for the full bracing effect of black coffee to combat the early hour. 

“Good morning, darling.”

“Not your darlin’ _anything_.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

Ed gagged; Roy kept smiling at the pan of now perfectly done eggs and turned the heat off with a click.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, it’ll burn the food radiating such smugness.” Ed said without lifting his head.

Roy gasped dramatically. “How dare you accuse me of such slander after I started my day by slaving over a hot stove for my poor, ravenous boyfriend—”

Ed pinched Roy’s (not at all love handle shaped) side.

Roy flinched sharply. Somehow, Ed remained lodged like a particularly persistent burr.

“What was that about not being a lazy ass for once in your life?”

“Ungrateful brat,” Roy said, setting the egg coated spatula aside to cover Ed’s hands with his own.

“ _Your_ ungrateful brat.” Ed gave a firm squeeze before sliding his hands down to Roy’s hips and turning the infuriating man to face him. “Just like you’re _my_ lazy bastard.”

Roy met his molten gaze head on, arms coming to rest along Ed’s shoulders, fingers immediately toying with the loose strands of spun gold. Ed’s thumbs stroked leisurely along the jut of his hipbones, tiny, soothing motions.

“Will you promise me something, Edward?”

Ed remained quiet, mouth twisted into a leery frown, thumbs pausing their steady circles. Promises were not something they generally indulged in, Ed too painfully honest and Roy too tired of incessant lies to commit such a thing to each other. “...What?” he finally asked.

Roy smiled softly. “Never change.”

Ed’s lips parted silently for a moment before compressing into a thin line, trying to disguise a smile. He ducked his head, gently head-butting Roy. “Idiot. Why would I do that when we both like me just the way I am?”

Roy didn’t reply, preoccupied with sealing his own lips to Ed’s, the warmth of his smile and the lingering hint of coffee tasting far sweeter than any promise made before.

**Author's Note:**

> Cheesy ending? More likely thank you think. Hey look, they even kissed this time. 
> 
> Barely.


End file.
